


Don't Give Up On Me

by eternaleponine



Series: From the Mouths of Babes [17]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Foster Care, Long-Distance Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:35:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25801450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternaleponine/pseuds/eternaleponine
Summary: Clarke and Lexa head off to college, which means being away from each other for an extended period for the first time since they met.  Nervous and excited, neither of them find what they expected.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Series: From the Mouths of Babes [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/626033
Comments: 262
Kudos: 224





	1. Chapter 1

Luna was the first to go. Even though their competitive season was in the winter, training was year-round, and swimmers were expected to get to campus early to begin. Lexa watched as Luna packed her things into bags and suitcases and plastic totes, and a small part of her wanted to follow behind her friend – her sister – and put everything back in its place. The larger, more rational part of her knew it would do no good. Luna would just pack it again, or leave missing things she would need living so far from home. 

Lexa sat on the edge of the bed, the chunk of quartz clutched in her hands, its edges digging into her palm so hard it left indentations behind. She told herself it wasn't forever. She told herself it was just for now. There would be school breaks and summers. There were phones and FaceTime and Skype. They'd been apart before and found their way back to each other. This time they knew exactly where the other was going to be. 

But it wouldn't be the same. Nothing would ever be the same again. Even when they were together it would be with the knowledge that they would eventually, sooner rather than later, be apart again. 

tr

This was the beginning of the end. 

Luna flopped down beside her, curling around her and draping one hand over Lexa's lap, palm up, and wiggled her fingers expectantly. Lexa dropped the rock into it, and Luna's hand closed around it. "I know," she said. "Come here."

Lexa slumped over, fitting herself like a puzzle piece against Luna, her best friend's hair and breath tickling her neck. "I'm not ready," Lexa said. 

"Neither am I," Luna said. "But at the same time, I am. I'm ready for things to change. Ready to see what comes next."

"What if it's not as good?" Lexa asked. 

"What if it's better?" Luna countered. She nudged Lexa until she rolled over, and they were face-to-face, brows and noses nearly touching as they shared a pillow on the narrow bed. 

"It won't be," Lexa said. 

"How do you know?" Luna asked. "We were torn away from the only world we'd ever known, and we were scared then. Terrified. We didn't know what was coming, where we were going to end up, what life in the world we'd been taught to both fear and look down on would be like. But it turned out okay, didn't it?"

"For me," Lexa said. "Not for you."

"It did eventually," Luna said. She found Lexa's hand and laced their fingers together, that silly old rock pressed between them. "This is our chance, Lexa. This is our chance to prove them – to prove everyone – wrong. To show that we aren't victims, that we're survivors and they didn't break us and they never will." Her dark eyes flashed, furious and determined, and Lexa pressed her lips together, sighed, nodded. She was glad Luna was able to see it that way. She was glad at least one of them was sure. 

"I won't have you," Lexa said, answering the question Luna hadn't asked: Why are you so sure it won't be better? 

It was Luna's turn to press her lips into a frown. "It's not really me you're worried about," she said. 

"It is!" Lexa protested. 

"And it's not," Luna replied. "You're worried about being away from Clarke. But it's only a couple of hours, and you'll both have cars. You'll be able to visit each other on weekends if you want to. And maybe if I have any meets nearby, you'll be able to come visit me, too." She flashed a smile, but it quickly faded. "It does no good to worry."

"But preparation is vital to survival," Lexa replied. "If you plan for every contingency—"

"You drive yourself crazy," Luna said. "This isn't—we're not just _surviving_ , Lex. Life is – it has to be – more than that. You can't look at the next four years as just something you have to get through to get to the other side. You'll miss out on so much if you do. And when the four years is over, it still won't be the same. _You_ won't be the same. Neither will I. Neither will Clarke. When all is said and done, when we've marched across those stages and gotten our diplomas, we're not coming back to this room. We're probably not even coming back to this town."

Lexa's heart clenched in her chest. "Don't say that," she said. "Please. I can't—"

Luna sighed. "Okay," she said, giving in. "C'mere." She took the rock from Lexa's hand and put it on the nightstand, then pulled her closer, wrapping her in her arms and letting Lexa hide her tears in her shoulder one last time.

* * *

Morning came, whether Lexa liked it or not, and she helped Luna carry everything to her car. It had looked like a lot when stuffed into their bedroom, but it fit into the car with plenty of room to spare... which was a good thing, because Luna would be picking up another girl from the swim team about an hour from here and they would be driving down to school together. 

"Call when you get there," Miss Becca – Mom – said, hugging Luna tight. "Actually, call when you get to your friend's, too. And maybe a few times along the way." She smiled, but there was a tightness to it that betrayed her anxiety at letting one of her children go off into the world on their own. Luna wasn't the first, and she wouldn't be the last – Lexa was due to move into the dorms in a few short weeks – but Lexa guessed this was one of those things that didn't get any easier with practice. 

"I will," Luna said. "Promise."

"Good girl," Miss Becca said. "You're going to be brilliant."

"Going to be?" Luna asked. "I already am."

Their mother laughed. "You're right," she said. "Safe travels. I love you."

"Love you too," Luna said, stumbling a little over the words, and Lexa wondered if it was the first time she'd ever said them. Not in general – Lexa knew she'd said them before, or similar ones, because Luna had whispered them into her hair last night when she thought Lexa was already sleeping, and Lexa had let her keep that illusion. 

Miss Becca went inside to make sure the kids hadn't burnt the place down while she was outside for five minutes, leaving them alone to say their goodbyes. Or almost alone, because Clarke came trotting over from across the street, barefoot and disheveled like she'd just woken up. 

"I _know_ you weren't going to leave without saying goodbye," she said, throwing her arms around Luna and squeezing her until Luna grunted. Clarke loosened her grip, grinning, and Luna smiled as she hugged her back. 

"I knew you'd show up," Luna said. She turned her head so her lips were almost against Clarke's ear, and murmured something – a lot of somethings – too quickly and quietly for Lexa to hear. Clarke nodded, hugged her again, and let her go. She caught Lexa's hand as she passed, hooking their pinkies together for just a second before retreating.

"You'll call me, too, won't you?" Lexa asked. "Not just Mom?"

Luna rolled her eyes. "Of course I'll call you! Or text you, at least. All the time. Constantly. So much you'll get sick of me." 

"Never," Lexa said. 

"I know." Luna took Lexa's face in her hands and pressed their foreheads together. "I love you, Lexa. Always. Nothing is ever, _ever_ going to take me from you as long as I have breath in my lungs. You understand? And nothing is ever going to take you from me." 

Lexa nodded, and Luna let go of her face and pulled her into a hug that lasted a long time. When she finally pulled away, they were both sniffling and surreptitiously wiping at their eyes like they thought somehow the other wouldn't notice.

Lexa laughed, and Luna did too, and that was how they parted ways – with a laugh and a smile and one final wave as Luna turned the corner and disappeared up the street. 

Clarke was waiting for her in the treehouse, sleeping bags and pillows spread on the floor like they would be spending the night even though it wasn't even mid-morning, and it didn't have to mean anything Lexa didn't want it to, but god, she wanted it to. Because if she tried to speak she'd scream, and she didn't have the words anyway. So she poured it all into Clarke's body – love and loss and fear and anticipation and hope and despair and everything else – and clung to her after, when they were both sweaty and spent and aching with the knowledge that even though this wasn't the last time, there would be one, and soon.

They stayed there until Lexa's phone chimed, signaling she had a text message from Luna letting her know she'd gotten to her new teammate's house safely and they were about to embark on the next leg of their trip, and so far so good. 

**Lexa:** Drive safe. Hope she has decent taste in music.

 **Luna:** Driver picks the music. Passenger shuts her cakehole.

Lexa smiled and sat up, searching for her shirt and finding Clarke's instead and putting it on anyway. "Come on," she said. "If there was ever a day for ice cream for breakfast, it's today."

* * *

"You know we'd like to see you too before you go," Abby said. "You can't spend every waking moment with Lexa."

Clarke rolled her eyes. She jumped when her bread popped out of the toaster even though she'd been standing there watching it, waiting for it to come out. "You're seeing me now," she said. "Lexa's not here."

"For once." 

Clarke looked at her mother as she savagely smeared butter on her toast, then reached into the cupboard for the little container of mixed cinnamon and sugar and sprinkled on a liberal coating. Her mother wrinkled her nose in distaste; she didn't approve of cinnamon toast at any time, but certainly not as part of a well-balanced breakfast. "If I didn't know better, I would think you didn't like Lexa," she said. 

Her mother sighed. "Of course I like Lexa," she said. "But I'm not going to lie and pretend I'm not glad you're going to different schools. She's been your entire world for the last eight years. Some enforced time apart will do you some good. Give you the chance to meet other people, experience new things, get to know who you are as an individual, rather than part of a unit."

"Give me a chance to meet a nice _boy_?" Clarke asked, taking a too-big bite and nearly choking as she tried to chew it. 

"That's not what I said, and that's not what I meant, and you know it," Abby said. 

Clarke did know it, but she was in the mood to pick a fight. As the days she had left with Lexa ticked down – less than a week left now – all of the reassurances she'd given her girlfriend seemed flimsy and flawed, and even though she'd said some of the same things to Lexa that her mother was saying to her now, she didn't want to hear it. 

What if they'd made a terrible mistake? What if long-distance (even though it wasn't _that_ long) proved to be too much for them? What if Lexa met someone else? Someone better? What if the only reason she loved Clarke was because she'd had no other option all these years? 

"So what's your big plan for the day, then?" Clarke asked. "If you're so eager to spend time with me, what are we going to do?"

"I have to work," her mom said, "but—"

"Oh, so I'm supposed to make time for you but you aren't going to make time for me?" Clarke snapped. "How does that work, exactly? How is that fair?"

"Life—"

"—isn't fair," Clarke finished for her. "But you could at least try to be!" She slammed her plate into the sink, grimacing when she thought she heard a crack, but it stayed in one piece as she rinsed it and dumped it into the dishwasher. 

"We can do something tonight," Abby said. "When I get home."

"I can't," Clarke said. "Lexa's coming over."

Her mother opened her mouth to say something – probably something along the lines of, 'Not if I say she can't, she isn't,' or, 'This is still my house. You ask me, you don't tell me,' – but shut it again. Because she knew if she said no, Clarke would make any time they spent together hell. Childish, yes, and petty, but Clarke was past caring. Life as she knew it was about to end, and while she had an outline of the next chapter, and all kinds of hopes for what she might find, it remained unwritten, and that scared her. 

Clarke Griffin did _not_ like being scared. 

Abby sighed, her shoulders coming down, and she seemed somehow smaller. A pit formed in Clarke's stomach, and she deflated like a pricked balloon, her anger gone as quickly as it had risen. "There's still some stuff I need," Clarke said, the best – only – olive branch she could think of to offer. "We could go do some shopping when you get home? Maybe get some dinner?"

"I'd like that," Abby said. "I'll see what I can do about getting out a little early. And maybe after dinner we can go to that cupcake place you like. Bring some home to share with your dad and Lexa."

"I'd like that," Clarke echoed. "I'll see you later then. Have a good day at work." 

"Thank you," Abby said. "You too."

Clarke didn't bother to correct her and remind her that her last day at work had been last week. She and Lexa had both decided to give themselves a week between work and school to get ready... and spend as much time together as possible. Which was why, as soon as both of her parents were off to work and Miss Becca had gone to drop the younger kids off at camp so she could get some work done, too, Lexa was at her door.

They didn't spend the entire week in bed. They didn't even spend most of it there. Instead they went on little day trips – the zoo, the botanical gardens, a nearby amusement park that included a water park (Lexa wore a rash guard to stave off any unwanted stares or questions) where they rode rollercoasters until they didn’t know which way was up, and slid down slides until their legs couldn't carry them up the stairs any more. An art fair. They hosted a little barbecue for both their families (although they ended up having to ask Clarke's dad for help with the grill) and watched their favorite movies and made popcorn and cookies and pizza. They crammed as much life as they could into those last few days before everything changed.

Before they knew it, and before they were ready, it was their last night together. In the morning, Clarke would get into her car and drive away, with her parents trailing behind her because they refused to allow her to go on her own... and maybe couldn't since she wouldn't be eighteen until October and there might be things that needed to be signed that she couldn't legally sign for herself until then. Lexa didn't leave until the day after, because even though they both had orientation at the same time, both of their schools handled freshman move-in alphabetically over two days, and Clarke was at the beginning and Lexa was at the end. 

They'd considered spending the night in the treehouse, because that's kind of where all of this had started, wasn't it? With Clarke drawing a little house into one of Lexa's sidewalk chalk trees, then begging her father to make it a reality. But the weather forecast was ominous, and anyway, her bed was far more comfortable than any air mattress could ever be. 

"It's going to be okay," Clarke whispered, lips that still tasted of Lexa brushing against her collarbone. "We're going to be fine." She was saying it as much to herself as she was to Lexa, speaking it into being because there was no other option. She didn't want there to be another option. "It's going to be hard, but—"

"That's what he said," Lexa interrupted, her lips twisting as she fought back a grin. 

Clarke tried to glare, but a giggle bubbled up and escaped before she could stop it, and then they were both laughing, wrestling and trying to pin one another down, and she'd thought they'd been done, that they'd reached their limit, but it turned out she'd been wrong... twice. 

She didn't realize she'd fallen asleep until she woke up, the sun already peeking in around the curtains, and she muffled a sob at all the minutes they'd lost against the back of Lexa's shoulder, her lips pressed against her scars. Lexa stirred and reached back, pulling Clarke's hips closer and grinding back against her, and they didn't really have time but they found it anyway, collapsing into each other just as Clarke started to hear signs of movement in the house.

"Do you want to stay for breakfast?" Clarke asked. 

Lexa considered, eventually shaking her head. "I'm not saying goodbye," she said. "This isn't goodbye."

"Of course not," Clarke said. "It's..." 

But she didn't know what it was.

"I'll see you soon," Lexa filled in for her, and Clarke could see her bravery was a mask, her light tone forced as the gravity of the moment tried to drag them both down. "I love you, Clarke Griffin. You're my heart, and you always will be. This isn't forever. It's just for now. And I'll see you soon."

Clarke nodded, her throat too thick to speak. 

Lexa slid out of bed and got dressed, and Clarke knew she should do the same, but she was frozen in place. It wasn't until Lexa reached for the door that her limbs unlocked, and she lunged forward, nearly toppling out of bed as her legs tangled in the sheets. "Lexa, wait!"

Lexa stopped, turning to look at her. Clarke eyes darted around, searching for some reason to have stopped her other than just not wanting to let her go, and landed on good old Godric the lion. She snatched him up and stumbled the few steps between them, thrusting him into Lexa's hands. "Take him," she said. "He'll—" She almost choked. "He'll look after you when I can't." 

Lexa looked down at the lion, then up at Clarke, and pulled her in. She kissed Clarke long and deep so they would both feel it for a long time after. They pulled apart slowly, blinking back tears, and Clarke traced her finger along Lexa's jaw, kissed her one last time, soft and sweet. "I love you too," she whispered, and let her go.

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?" Miss Becca asked. "It would be short notice, but I'm sure given the circumstances I can find someone to do a few hours of respite care for the kids." Because it was never as simple as just getting a babysitter. 

"I'm sure," Lexa said. "I'll be fine."

Miss Becca frowned. "I'd really rather you didn't go alone. I know it's silly, but this just feels like one of those moments where you should have someone with you. Everyone else—"

"I'm not everyone else," Lexa said. "You let Luna go alone."

Miss Becca sighed. "Don't think I didn't hate every minute of it," she said. But Luna had called, just as she'd promised she would, and arrived safely, well on her way to having a new BFF. Lexa reached up and touched the little moonstone charm that hung around her neck, pressing it between her fingers hard enough to leave an impression before letting go. She knew she ought to be happy for her friend – her sister – and she was. She was glad she'd settled in and liked her roommate and loved her team and her coach. She was happy that Luna was happy. 

She was also lonely as hell. 

She hadn't watched Clarke drive away. She'd known it would break her, and she couldn't afford to fall apart now. She still had to organize all the stuff Miss Becca had bought for her, which seemed like far more than she could ever possibly need, and get it packed and into her car because tomorrow...

 _Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of your life!_ , some rah-rah cheerleader part of her brain told her. Lexa grabbed it by its beribboned ponytail and shoved it back in its box. 

"I'll ask Anya," Lexa said. 

Miss Becca smiled. "That's a great idea."

"I need to pack," Lexa said, and retreated upstairs before Miss Becca could see the cracks in her mask.

 **Lexa:** What are you doing tomorrow?

 **Anya:** Working. Why?

 **Lexa:** Just curious.

There was no reply, which meant Anya was probably at work right now, and Lexa was counting on the fact that by the time her shift ended, Anya would have forgotten all about the conversation in the first place. She'd asked... sort of. Miss Becca couldn't say she hadn't asked. But she was not-so-secretly glad Anya couldn't come, because Lexa couldn't stand another goodbye. In the last few weeks she'd had enough for a lifetime.


	2. Chapter 2

"Here it is," her father said, stopping at a door that looked like every other door on the hall, except for the number and the name tags pasted to it that read Clarke and Josephine. Clarke could hear someone talking inside, which meant her roommate had beat her here. 

Clarke slipped her brand new student ID from her pocket and pressed it to the panel next to the door. It beeped and a little light turned green, so she grabbed the handle and twisted, pasting a smile on her face even as her stomach fluttered with an uncontrollable case of butterflies.

The voice cut off, then switched abruptly to... Chinese? Clarke didn't think it was Japanese, but she wasn't exactly an expert. But one of the two seemed most likely; she didn't think other Asian languages were commonly taught in American schools. Possibly Korean? Then again, she was assuming her roommate was American. Josephine _seemed_ like an American name, but Clarke knew these things could be deceiving. Most people assumed she was a boy until they met her. 

But Josephine was pale, blonde and blue-eyed... which again, didn't mean a hell of a lot, did it? Maybe one of her parents was in the military, and they'd been stationed somewhere in Asia. Maybe they were diplomats, or expatriates. Maybe... 

"Your half is over there," the girl said, her accent _definitely_ American, waving dismissively toward one corner, then returned to her conversation as she breezed out the door, letting it click shut behind her. 

Clarke sucked in a breath, looking around the room, which wasn't much bigger than the room she'd had all to herself back home. (Except on weekends when she shared it was Lexa, but for most of their lives they'd been so joined at the hip they'd scarcely taken up more space than one person.) Josephine (Jo, Josie?) had clearly been allowed to move in early, because she'd already unpacked, and her stuff was everywhere. There was a built-in bookshelf on one wall, and it was already filled with books. Clarke looked for another one – sure there had to be two of everything, to make it fair – but no. 

_It doesn't matter,_ she told herself. _It's not like you brought a bunch of books with you. Anything you need to read that isn't a textbook you can just download. Save the trees and all that. At least she reads, right?_

She set down the plastic tote she'd been carrying next to the bed that was still bare, with a desk crammed into the corner beside it, which would have to double as a nightstand, it looked like, unless she lofted the bed so she could use the top of her dresser instead. 

"I'm not a math wizard or anything," her dad said – except he was an engineer, and pretty much had to be exactly that, "but this doesn't really seem like half."

It didn't. The space Clarke had versus what Josephine had claimed definitely wasn't equal. Clarke's 'half' was probably closer to a third, and she would have to walk through Josephine's space to get to the door, or the bathroom. 

"It's fine," Clarke said. "Maybe we'll rearrange the furniture later. She probably didn't even think about it." She got busy unpacking, and then they went out to Target to buy a few things she'd somehow managed to forget, and had a nice lunch together – the last decent meal she would get until Thanksgiving, she joked – before her parents got back in their car and drove way. 

When she got back to the room, Josephine had returned. She looked up from her book, giving Clarke a quick once-over, then returned to its pages, having dismissed her without so much as a hello. Clarke swallowed and licked her lips, trying to restore moisture to her mouth, which suddenly felt like she'd been sucking on cotton balls.

"Hey," she said. 

Nothing. No response. 

"I was thinking maybe we could rearrange things? I don't get a lot of light at my desk with it shoved in the corner and—"

"I like it," Josephine said. "If you want to move your shit around, go for it, but mine's staying where it is." 

"But—" Clarke stopped herself, biting her tongue. Did she really want the first conversation she had with the girl she was going to live with for the next eight months to be an argument? Better to just let it go. She could always bring it up again once they got to know each other better. In the meantime, she could go back to Target to get a desk lamp. 

She slid the last box – the one that contained the personal, non-practical stuff she hadn't been able to leave behind – out from under her bed and lifted the lid. There was a painting she'd done that she was particularly proud of, and her sketchbooks and pencils and colored pencils and a few coloring books that were supposed to help her clear her mind and focus if she got stressed. A stuffed gorilla Lexa had gotten for her in the zoo gift shop that she hadn't named yet, which she set tenderly against her pillows. Pictures of friends from high school, and one of her parents, and one of her and Lexa and Luna from the trip to Hawaii, all three of them smiling, with the breeze blowing their hair and flowers tucked behind their ears. And last, but never least, a picture of her and Lexa that Luna had taken earlier in the summer without them knowing it, sitting on the edge of the treehouse porch, their feet dangling over and their fingers interlaced as they laughed about something Clarke didn't even remember. Luna had had it framed and given a copy to each of them before she left. 

Clarke set that one carefully on her desk, where she would be able to see it all the time, and blinked hard against the sting in her eyes. 

"Who's that?"

Clarke nearly jumped out of her skin, because somehow Josephine had gotten up and crossed the room without Clarke noticing, and now she was _right there_ , peering over Clarke's shoulder. 

"Shit," Clarke gasped. "You could warn a person."

"Sorry," Josephine said, in a tone that said the opposite and with a look that said, 'Well? Are you going to answer my question or not?'

"Lexa," Clarke said, proud that her voice was steady, that she didn't choke on the name even when saying it felt like shards of glass jabbing into her heart. 

"Lexa...?" Josephine prompted, and Clarke didn't think she was looking for a last name. 

"My girlfriend," Clarke said, realizing belatedly that she had no idea whether or not that might be a problem. She had no time or patience for people her age who were homophobic (or people of any age, really) and if Josephine said _one word_ \--

"Huh," Josephine said, plopping herself down on Clarke's bed without asking. "Why aren't you rooming with her? Do you parents not know?" She leaned in, suddenly interested now that there might be gossip. 

"She's not here," Clarke said, and she was imagining the taste of blood in the back of her throat when she swallowed. She had to be. "She's at Polis University."

"Oh." Josephine's nose wrinkled. "Good luck with that." She got up again, retreating to her own bed. "Long distance never works. That's why my boyfriend and I did the sensible thing and broke up before we left for school. I'm sure we'll still hook up on breaks and whatever – it's not like either of us stopped being hot – but we're not allowed to get mad if the other hooks up with other people." She shrugged. "Seriously, though. Don't be surprised if she meets someone else. Or you do. High school isn't real life, and high school relationships..." She rolled her eyes. "Better not to torture yourself." She picked up her book, the conversation clearly over for her now that she'd said her piece. 

Clarke opened her mouth, then closed it, because if you had nothing nice to say, it was better to say nothing at all. She wanted to leave the room, but she didn't want to give Josephine (did she _really_ go by Josephine? It was such a mouthful...) the satisfaction of knowing she'd gotten under Clarke's skin, so she stayed put, arranging and rearranging things and then putting them back again because they were already where she wanted them. Finally, when it stopped feeling like her roommate was watching her out of the corner of her eye, Clarke grabbed her phone and slipped out the door.

"Hey babe," she said softly when Lexa picked up on the first ring. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

"What would you be interrupting?" Lexa asked, and Clarke could hear the smile in her voice but also the tension behind it. 

"I don't know," Clarke said. "Packing? A game of Candyland?"

"We don't play Candyland anymore," Lexa said. "It gets too combative."

"Combative?" Clarke asked. " _Candyland?_ " 

"Trust me," Lexa said. "These kids find a way to turn anything into a reason to fight." She sighed. "One thing I definitely won't miss." Clarke could hear rustling, maybe her settling on her bed, or maybe getting up to pace. "How is it?"

Clarke wanted to tell the truth. She wanted to tell Lexa she felt lost and alone and she hated her roommate already and she was starting to think maybe this had all been a mistake. But she didn't want to upset Lexa, or freak her out, so she did what she swore she'd never do: she lied. At the very least, she bent the truth almost to the point of breaking. She told herself she was doing Lexa a favor. 

"It's okay," Clarke said. "Move-in went smoothly, and I got everything unpacked. I'm meeting with my orientation group for dinner in a little bit." Hopefully there were people there she could make some kind of connection with, since clearly things on the homefront, so to speak, were off to a rocky start. 

"How's your roommate?" Lexa asked. "Has she moved in yet?"

"She was already moved in when I got here," Clarke said. "Maybe she's an athlete or something? We haven't talked much. She has a lot of stuff." 

"Mmm," Lexa said, a noncommittal sound that Clarke didn't know how to interpret. 

"I should probably go," Clarke said. "I don't want to be late and I'm not actually 100% sure how to get to the dining hall where we're meeting, so..." 

"Okay," Lexa said, too quickly? Maybe she really was busy. Maybe she was just nervous about what it would be like when she got to her own dorm tomorrow. Maybe...

_Maybe she's already realizing she never really needed you, now that you're gone,_ a voice that sounded suspiciously like her roommate hissed. _Maybe she's already thinking about the possibility that there might be someone else, someone better, out there._

"I'll talk to you later?" Lexa asked, the hope in her voice squashing the tiny seedling of doubt that was trying to take root. "Or text you? Or you text me."

"I will," Clarke said. "I promise." She forced a smile even as she pressed a hand to her aching heart. "I love you."

"Love you too," Lexa said. And then, like she could read Clarke's thoughts, "Everything's going to be okay."

* * *

"Everything's going to be okay," she told Clarke, but Lexa was speaking to herself as much as her girlfriend. In a way it had been reassuring that Clarke hadn't immediately launched into a monologue about how great college was and how much she loved her roommate and how she was so excited about everything... but it had also sent a pang of guilt through her that she was happy that Clarke wasn't. Not that she sounded unhappy, exactly...

_She's probably just tired,_ Lexa told herself. _Neither of you slept much last night._

She curled up on her bed, a hand pressed between her thighs, the knuckle of her thumb digging through her jeans into her clit that was still swollen and a little sore. She rolled her hips gently, sending a dull wave of pleasure rolling through her body, and closed her eyes, just for a little while...

She jolted awake when her door rattled on its hinges with the force of one of the littles knocking, shouting that dinner was ready and she had to come downstairs _right now_. Lexa sat up with a groan, wiping the sleep from her eyes, and dragged herself down to the kitchen.

"You didn't have to do all this," she said when she looked at the spread of food laid out. It was as many of her favorite things as Miss Becca could reasonably cram into a single meal, and everything smelled delicious. 

"It's not every day one of my kids goes off to college," Miss Becca said. "Let me spoil you for once, just a little."

Lexa looked down, nodded. "Thanks, Mom," she said, and took her seat.

* * *

Lexa packed the last of her things into her car the next morning and closed the door, then headed back toward the house to say goodbye. She hugged the littles – those that were willing to stop playing long enough to let her, anyway – and told them to be good, and then Miss Becca. "Thank you," she said. "For everything."

Miss Becca held her tight for a long time. "I'm so proud of you," she said. "So, so proud. You and your sister..." She trailed off, then frowned. "Speaking of which – where's Anya?" Who wasn't the sister Miss Becca had been referring to – that was Luna – but the term still applied as far as Lexa was concerned.

"Working," Lexa said, not quite meeting her mother's eyes.

Miss Becca's frown deepened. "You said you were going to ask her to come with you," she said. 

"I did," Lexa said. "She was busy."

"Lexa." 

Lexa forced herself to look up. "You let Luna go alone!" 

"She was meeting up with a friend," Miss Becca said. "She wasn't alone."

"I'll be fine," Lexa said. "It's not that far, and I don't have that much stuff." Although when she looked at her car with its back seat crammed full, it didn't feel that way. It felt like she had packed up her entire life to relocate it elsewhere, and there was a part of her that wondered if there would still be a place for her here if she ever needed to come back. Maybe she was selfish to expect there to be. Maybe Anya had had the right idea, leaving with no intention of returning except to visit, making room for the next kid who needed a place.

Miss Becca sighed, shaking her head. "You've always been stubborn," she said. "You'll call me as soon as you get there?"

"I'll at least text," Lexa said. Miss Becca frowned. "I might be busy!" Lexa protested, then relented. "I'll call you tonight at some point. I promise."

"You'd better," Miss Becca said, then pulled her into another hug. "It's not going to be the same around here without you." When she finally let go, she wiped at the corners of her eyes with a knuckle. "I love you, Lexa," she said. "If you need anything—"

"I know," Lexa said. She swallowed hard. "I love you too."

And then she did what she'd always done when emotions got too overwhelming, the honesty of a moment too big to bear: she bolted out the door and away.

* * *

A swarm of perky, neon-shirted people descended on Lexa as soon as she pulled her car up in front of the dorm, after waiting in a line that felt a million miles long for her turn. They emptied her car in record time and directed her where to park it. Her gut squirmed at the idea of leaving everything she owned in the care of complete strangers, but she didn't have much choice. She did keep the backpack that held her laptop with her; that was one thing she wasn't willing to risk. When she got back to the building, though, everything was still exactly where she'd left it, and they helped her shift it into the elevator and up to the fifth floor where her room was located. 

"You're in luck," one of the brightly colored, beaming students – Lexa assumed they were students, their shirts were emblazoned with the title Orientation Leader across the back – told her. "You're in a double, and you have a shared bathroom with the triple next door. So you're only sharing a bathroom with four other people instead of an entire floor!" 

"That's... good," Lexa said, forcing a smile. She had shared a bathroom with more people than that for most of her life, but she knew her circumstances weren't usual. They probably expected most people to be like Clarke, having grown up with everything to themselves, or maybe shared with one or two others. 

"You have no idea," the OL said, wide-eyed, before her face split into a grin again. "This one's you!" she said cheerily, stopping in front of a door. "Your roommate _just_ got here. Like maybe five minutes ago? If you need anything, let us know!" And then she and her troop of helpers disappeared, off to help the next new arrival, leaving Lexa alone with her pile of stuff in the hall.

It was like arriving at Miss Becca's all over again. She was a stranger in a strange land, not knowing what to expect, not knowing if she was ready for it, and not knowing what awaited her on the other side of the door. 

When she'd filled out her housing application, a questionnaire that was apparently supposed to help them place her with a compatible stranger, she'd had the option of sharing her information with her new roommate once they were matched. Lexa had elected not to, because although she didn't think her name had ever made it into the media, she didn't want to take a chance on her roommate googling her and learning things about her before Lexa was ready for her to know them. 

She sucked in a breath, straightened her back, and pushed open the door.

* * *

"Hey! I'm Costia! It's so nice to finally meet you!" 

Lexa stiffened as a pair of arms closed around her, suppressing her natural fight-or-flight instinct because it told her to fight, and she didn't need to get herself tossed out for assaulting her roommate in the first five minutes... even if said roommate had kind of started it.

"Sorry," Costia said, letting go and flashing her a sheepish smile. "I forget not everyone's a hugger." She took a step back, giving Lexa space to breathe, and looked around the room. "Oh good," she said. "No bunkbeds. I was having nightmares about us fighting over who got which bunk. There were these two girls at summer camp one time..." She rolled her eyes and laughed. "Have you ever had bunkbeds before?"

Lexa nodded mutely, having gone numb under the onslaught of words and enthusiasm. 

"Were you a top or a bottom?" Costia asked, and then her eyes went wide. "That did _not_ come out right," she said, giggling. "That would be way TMI, right?" 

Lexa nodded, because she didn't know what else to do. She had no idea what Costia was talking about, and she wasn't sure she wanted to. She wasn't sure about any of this, but there was no turning back now. "I need to get the rest of my stuff," she said. 

"Oh, right," Costia said. "Here, I'll help you." 

Lexa didn't bother trying to say no. She doubted Costia would hear it.

* * *

"Hey babe," Clarke said, sounding slightly out of breath. 

"Hi love," Lexa said, sinking onto her bed. Costia was in their neighbors' room (the ones they shared a bathroom with) and she could hear her bright, bubbling laugh through the wall. Lexa had been invited to join them, but she'd begged off, saying the drive had taken a lot out of her, and her mom was waiting for her to call anyway. Which she was, and Lexa was going to call her... but she'd called Clarke first. "Everything all right?"

"Fine," Clarke said. "How are you? How was move-in?" 

"It was okay," Lexa said. "They had a bunch of people to help and it didn't take long to unpack." She shrugged. "Costia's not done yet, but she brought a lot more stuff than I did." 

"Costia?" Clarke asked. "Is that your roommate?"

Lexa nodded, then remembered Clarke couldn't see her. "Yes," she said. 

"How is she?" Clarke asked. 

"She's... a lot." Lexa let out a soft breath, almost a laugh. She wasn't sure how else to describe her.

"Good a lot or bad a lot?" Clarke asked. 

"Good, I think," Lexa said. "She's really friendly. Like... friendlier than I know what to do with. She hugged me the second I stepped in the door, pretty much." 

"Oh," Clarke said. "Um."

"Yeah." Lexa shook her head and rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Definitely wasn't expecting that. But it's okay. I think we'll get along."

"Good," Clarke said. "That's good." But she didn't sound like she thought it was good. Not really.

"Is everything okay?" Lexa asked. 

"Fine," Clarke said again, and Lexa believed her even less the second time. "Just..." Lexa heard her swallow. "It's just... kind of overwhelming, you know? It's..." She let out a slow breath. "It'll get better." 

Lexa's fingers tightened around her phone, as if gripping it harder would some transfer over to Clarke, that she would feel it like Lexa holding her hand or hugging her. A lump formed in her throat and her eyes stung, because she didn't know when she would get to do that again. "I miss you," she said softly. 

"I miss you too," Clarke said. "I—"

"Lexa!" Costia burst into the room through the bathroom. "Come on!" 

"Hold on," Lexa said quickly to Clarke. "Come where?" she asked Costia.

"Ice cream social. I don't care how tired you are – you can't say no to ice cream!" 

"She's right," Clarke said, because of course Costia was loud enough to be heard through the phone. "Go."

"Are you sure?" Lexa asked. 

"Absolutely," Clarke said. "Have fun. Make sure you get extra sprinkles for me." 

"I will," Lexa said. "I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

"Okay," Clarke said. "I love you, babe."

"Love you too," Lexa said. She hesitated for just a second, because Clarke really didn't sound like she was okay, but Clarke was telling her to go, and once she'd made up her mind about something, there was no point arguing with her, so she finally hung up.

She uncurled from her bed and as soon as she was standing, Costia had her arm looped through Lexa's. "Let's go," she said. "I can hear the hot fudge calling your name from here."

Lexa laughed. "I'm more of a caramel girl, actually." 

Costia grinned. "The caramel, then. 'Lexaaaaa... come eat meeee...'" 

Lexa snorted and rolled her eyes, but she let herself be pulled.


	3. Chapter 3

The old saying about not getting a second chance to make a first impression proved to be true, and at least as far as Josephine went, she didn't seem inclined to try. Maybe she didn't understand how bad Clarke's first impression of her had been... but Clarke suspected that she understood and simply didn't care. That she was exactly as insufferably self-centered and as much a know-it-all as she had originally seemed. 

_It doesn't matter,_ Clarke told herself. _You'll barely be in the room anyway._ Once the semester got going, there would be classes and study groups and clubs and she would only be in the room to sleep... which was proving to be more difficult than she'd anticipated. _Just nerves,_ she thought. _Of course there's going to be an adjustment period._ She would settle in soon enough. 

_It will get better,_ Clarke told herself, over and over again. Every morning when she woke up, every activity she went to, every icebreaker, mixer, meeting she attended, she told herself it would get better. She would make friends. She would find her people. 

She would stop feeling so damned lonely.

It didn't get better. She met people, smiled and chatted, having essentially the same conversation over and over (and over...) again: where are you from, what's your major, etcetera, ad nauseum. Sometimes she managed to hold on to a group for a morning or a meal, but by the next day whatever connection they'd made had evaporated as if it had never been. 

_You just need to try harder,_ Clarke thought. _Get their numbers. Reach out._ But after the third or fourth text asking if a new acquaintance wanted to hang out or get food went unanswered, she started to think maybe she just wasn't as likable as she'd believed herself to be.

The highlight of any given day was when her phone lit up with a text from Lexa, but even those seemed to be getting fewer and farther between. Clarke told herself she was imagining it, that Lexa was busy with orientation, that they would find a new groove, a new routine, soon. She told herself everything would be okay.

But every time her phone rang and she had to hustle out of her room to avoid Josephine's glares and eye rolls, a little of her confidence was chipped away. Especially when so many of those calls ended with Lexa being called away to go somewhere or do something. Every time, Lexa hesitated, waiting for Clarke to say it was okay, that she could go, that Clarke didn't mind their conversations being cut short. (And part of her didn't, because it was less time she had to spend forcing false cheer into her voice, pretending that everything was great, she was having a great time, nothing to see here, pay no attention to the girl behind the curtain, great great great.) 

It was as if every fear Lexa had had about going off to school was coming true... but for Clarke. Meanwhile, everyone else was having the college experience Clarke had dreamed of. Even Lexa. Especially Lexa. 

Clarke was happy for her. She really was. She was glad she was settling in and making friends, that she liked her roommate and was excited about getting a fresh start in a new place. She deserved it. 

But didn't Clarke deserve it too?

At the end of the week campus filled up with returning students, and Clarke let herself hope that things would finally turn around. So what if she hadn't found her people among the other incoming freshman? That didn't mean they didn't exist, that they weren't out there waiting to be found. She even found herself looking forward to the start of classes, which she knew were going to stretch and expand her thinking, because that was the whole point of college, wasn't it?

By the end of the first day, she was starting to have doubts. By the end of the first week, it had solidified into a knot of dread. _They're just gen eds,_ she reminded herself. _They're one size fits all – or no one. And you've barely done more than go over the syllabus. It'll be **fine**._

She scoured the bulletin boards and read every email that came through her school account, putting dates and times and places in her calendar for every club that looked even vaguely interesting, and attended all of them at least once, sure that this time she would find her tribe, as it were.

She even attended a few sorority pledge meetings, thinking maybe she would find the sisterhood that was promised, but she never went back, never actually committed to pledging any of them, because deep down she was sure that even if she did everything she was asked, in the end they wouldn't choose her, and she would have wasted weeks on false hope. 

She arrived at the GSA (Genders and Sexualities – not Gay/Straight Alliance, that was so last century) meeting exactly on time, not wanting to show up early and look desperate, or late and call attention to herself. There were snacks on a table off to one side, and she picked up a cookie to nibble on as they made a loose circle and went around introducing themselves: name, pronouns, how they identified if they were comfortable saying it, and one interesting fact about themselves. 

When her turn came, Clarke cleared her throat, wishing she'd grabbed one of the little bottles of water along with the cookie. "Hi," she said. "I'm Clarke. She/her." She hesitated, because she'd never really thought much about labeling herself. She loved Lexa, couldn't imagine herself with anyone other than Lexa, but Lexa-sexual wasn't a thing. "An interesting fact about me is that I met my girlfriend when we were ten years old. Not that we've been together that whole time, but... we kind of have?" 

There was a chorus of 'awws' and a few good-natured gagging noises, and then they moved on to the next person. 

After the meeting, a group of girls approached her. "We were going to go grab something to eat," one of them – Clarke thought she'd said her name was Monroe? – said. "Do you want to join us?"

"Yes!" Clarke said, a little too enthusiastically and even though she wasn't hungry. It was the first genuine (at least she thought it was) invitation she'd received to spend time with anyone, and there was no way she was going to pass it up. As they made their way toward the dining hall, she was already imagining telling Lexa all about it.

When they sat down with their food – Clarke had made a little salad to have something to pick at – she was immediately bombarded with questions about her girlfriend: what's her name, how did you meet, have you really been together since you were ten, where is she now, does long distance really suck? Clarke answered all of the questions eagerly, monopolizing the conversation but no one seemed to mind. When she told them about how – and why – Lexa had finally confessed her feelings, the other girls all rolled their eyes.

"Ugh," one of them said. "Compulsive heteronormativity, am I right?" 

The others agreed, laughing, and Clarke laughed along with them. But she hadn't gone on the date – which hadn't really even been a date in her eyes – with Wells because she felt like she had to. She hadn't been doing it to hide anything, or because she was deluded into thinking she had to be with a boy or whatever. When he'd kissed her, she hadn't hated it. She hadn't loved it either, but that had more to do with the fact that it was Wells, who she'd known forever and thought of as more of a brother than a romantic prospect, than that he was a boy. 

She'd never been with anyone other than Lexa, and didn't want to be with anyone other than Lexa, but if she'd never met Lexa... being with a boy wasn't outside the realm of possibility. Was it? 

"I could never date a bi girl," one of them said. "They always end up just being straight girls who want to look edgy or whatever."

"Lesbians until graduation," another agreed, and Clarke's stomach clenched. 

"That's bullshit," Monroe said. "Sexuality is a spectrum. Not many people are completely straight or completely gay." 

"Are _you_ bi?" one of the other girls asked. 

"No," Monroe said. "I'm just saying... bisexuality is a thing, and so is biphobia, and we're supposed to be open and inclusive to all. We're supposed to be better than The Straights, right?"

"Obviously," the girl said. "And I don't have a problem with bisexual people. I'm just saying I would never want to date one. It's a personal preference."

"Excuse me," Clarke said, sliding out of the booth. "I just remembered I have some reading I have to do for class tomorrow." She grabbed her tray and dumped it, accidentally throwing her fork away along with all but a few bites of her salad, but she wasn't about to dive head-first into the garbage can to retrieve it. With as much as she – well, her parents – were paying in tuition for her to be here, the college could afford to replace it. 

She hurried back toward her dorm, half-expecting (or maybe just hoping) one of the girls would follow her, ask her what was wrong, make sure she was okay. Of course no one did, and by the time she got back to her blessedly empty room, tears were already pooling in her eyes. 

Her phone rang, the special ringtone she'd set so she always knew when it was Lexa calling, and for the first time ever she thought about not answering. She finally picked up on the last ring, pressing the phone to her ear and swallowing hard. 

"Hello?" Lexa said. "Clarke?"

"Hey," Clarke croaked. 

"Hey," Lexa said, a smile warming her voice. "How was the meeting?"

Because she'd texted Lexa right before going into it, saying she wouldn't be around for the next hour or two, probably. The text had gone unanswered, but at least Lexa had read it. Clarke's eyes spilled over, and she swallowed a sob... or tried to.

"Clarke?" Lexa asked. "What's wrong?" 

"I just... miss you... so much!" Clarke gasped. 

"I know," Lexa said. "I miss you too." But she didn't sound like she did. Not really. She sounded like she was fine without Clarke. Like she'd put high school behind her, just like she'd put her past behind her when they were kids, and it was only a matter of time before Clarke followed. "Talk to me," she said. "Tell me what happened." 

Clarke shook her head, unable to squeeze words past the lump in her throat. Tears streamed down her face as she huddled on her bed, clutching the still unnamed gorilla to her aching heart. 

"What are you doing this weekend?" Lexa asked. "Maybe I can come visit."

Clarke shook her head again, then nodded vigorously, then remembered Lexa couldn't see any of it. Sometimes they FaceTimed, just to be able to see each other, but not often because it required putting the other on speaker. Neither of them was eager to have the entire world overhearing their conversations, and privacy was hard to come by in a college dorm. "Yes," she finally managed. "Yes, please."

* * *

"Yeah no," Josephine said, when Clarke told her Lexa was coming to visit that weekend, and was there any way she could maybe find somewhere else to spend the night Friday, or Saturday, or both? "That's not going to work for me."

"Oh," Clarke said. "Do you... have a paper to write or something?"

"No," Josephine said. "I'm just not being kicked out of my own room so you can... whatever." She rolled her eyes. "I don't care if she visits, but I'm not going anywhere."

Clarke sucked in a breath, choking back anger and tears, trying to think of some argument that might sway her roommate, who she was pretty sure was being obstinate just because she could. On principle or whatever. 

_Or maybe,_ a cruel little part of her thought, _she's as friendless as you are and doesn't have anywhere else to go._

Which, under other circumstances, might have made Clarke feel sorry for her, but if Josephine had no friends, it was her own fault. If she wasn't so self-righteous and condescending, maybe people would find her so off-putting.

But if it was Josephine's fault she had no friends (assuming she didn't, which Clarke didn't know for sure) what did that say about Clarke? Was there something about her that turned people off, too? Was she too pushy? Too stubborn? Too judgmental? Clarke didn't think she was any of those things (well, maybe stubborn, a little...) but maybe she just couldn't see the forest for the trees. After all, the common denominator in all of her failed attempts to form bonds with people here was her. 

Which meant she had to be the problem. 

Which meant...

"Can't you just get a room or something?" Josephine asked. "Like at a hotel, like a normal person?"

Clarke bit her tongue. What quote-unquote normal college student got a hotel room when their significant other came to town? There was a reason the portmanteau 'sexciled' existed. "You have to be twenty-one to get a hotel room," she said. Clarke wasn't even eighteen yet.

Josephine rolled her eyes so hard Clarke thought her entire body might follow. "Use your—" She stopped. "You don't _have_ a fake ID, do you? Little Miss Goody-Two-Shoes would _never_!" She slipped into a semi-Southern accent and pressed her hand to her chest in a gesture of mock (and mocking) alarm. "God," she said, her voice going back to normal. "You're so pathetic. But it's cute how hard you try." She reached out like she as going to pinch Clarke's cheek, or ruffle her hair, and Clarke took a step back even though she was already out of reach. 

"Fine," Josephine said, when the silence had stretched to the point of snapping. "One night. You pick." 

"Friday," Clarke said immediately. Because she didn't want to have to wait, and maybe by the time Saturday rolled around Josephine would have changed her mind and would give her – them – one more night of privacy.

* * *

She didn't. She barely gave them Friday night, but she was all smiles when she was in the room, asking Lexa questions about what her school was like and how her classes were going and every other obnoxiously small-talky thing she could think of to delay actually leaving. They ended up going out in the vain hope that when they got back to the room Josephine ('Call me Josie!') would be gone. She wasn't. Instead, she made a big show of packing an overnight bag. 

"See you in the morning!" she called brightly over her shoulder when she finally, _finally_ departed at quarter past eleven.

Clarke sank onto her bed, exhausted from the hours of walking they'd done. She'd given Lexa a tour of the entire campus, including parts she had never been to before, and she could feel the questions piling up in Lexa's head, barely held at bay behind her teeth. 

Lexa sat down beside her, and opened her mouth, but before anything could spill out Clarke met it with her own in a hungry, desperate, just this side of too rough kiss. For a second, Lexa resisted. For a second Clarke thought she was going to push her away and insist they talk instead, but it had been so long, too long, almost the longest they'd ever been apart, and after that second of hesitation, Lexa gave in, surrendered, let Clarke have her way... and then pressed Clarke down and gave as good as she got. 

Clarke set an early alarm to wake them to put clothes on before Josephine came back, and twined herself around and over and into Lexa again... and again... and again...

* * *

If saying goodbye the day she left for school had been bad, saying goodbye after not even two full days of laughter and love and stolen kisses and surreptitious caresses that Clarke honestly didn't care if Josephine overheard because it was her own damn fault for not staying away, was infinitely worse. 

"Take me with you," Clarke said, putting herself between Lexa and her car door, joking but also not. "I promise I'll be quiet. Costia won't even notice I'm there." 

Lexa laughed, flashing Clarke that soft, crooked smile she loved so much. "I'm pretty sure she would," Lexa said. "But I think she's going home next weekend. Her parents' anniversary or something? Maybe it's a wedding. Anyway, big party. She invited me to be her plus one, but—"

Jealousy flared, bubbling in Clarke's gut, and she thought if she looked in the mirror right then her eyes might be as green as Lexa's. Costia had invited Lexa to be her guest at a wedding? She _knew_ Lexa had a girlfriend! ... didn't she? 

What if she didn't? What if Lexa had never told her? What if—

"But I told her I couldn't. I have a big paper I need to work on. Which is true, but you could bring your homework with you, and we would have the room to ourselves and—"

"Yes," Clarke said, crashing into her and kissing her so hard she tasted blood as her lip split against her teeth. "Sorry," she mumbled, pressing her hand to her mouth. "But yes. Next weekend. Yes."

"Okay," Lexa said, sounding suddenly unsure. "Clarke..."

"It's just been more of an adjustment than I thought it would be," Clarke said quickly. "I thought I would just... have it, you know? That it would all be easy. And it's not. But I'm figuring it out. Okay?"

"Okay," Lexa said again. She slipped her arms around Clarke, pulling her close and then closer, until their foreheads rested against each other. "I love you," she said. "If you ever need anything - _anything_ \- you call me. Even if it's the middle of the night."

Clarke nodded, her eyes stinging and her throat swelling closed. 

"Promise?" Lexa asked.

Clarke nodded again. "Promise," she lied.

* * *

The next weekend she went to visit Lexa, and for the first time since they started school, Clarke felt like she could breathe. Really breathe, filling her lungs to bursting and letting it out again and not worrying about whether someone might look at her sideways for being too loud or taking up too much space or whatever it was she did that made people's gaze slide sideways when they saw her, avoiding eye contact unless they needed something from her. She wasn't walking on eggshells or overthinking every word that came out of her mouth. She could smile and laugh – even when they ran into some of Lexa's friends at the dining hall and they joined them without asking. They peppered her with a lot of the same questions Josephine had asked Lexa, but unlike Josephine (who had nearly snapped Clarke's head off when she dared to call her Josie) they did it because they seemed genuinely curious about the answers and not just to be as annoying as possible. Clarke found herself stumbling a little over the answers, trying to find silver linings and painting as rosy a picture as she could manage because she didn't want Lexa to worry about her. Not when she was obviously so happy. Lexa had spent so much of her life mired in doubt and fear... Clarke wasn't going to rain on her parade now that she had finally found a way and a place to escape it.

It was only on the drive home that she really started to think about that, and what it meant. Lexa was flourishing... without her. Had Clarke been holding her back all this time? Was Clarke a reminder of the past Lexa would rather leave behind? She was happy to see Clarke now – she'd made that abundantly clear over the course of two gloriously roommate-free nights – but would she always be? Or would she eventually decide it was time to not just end the chapter, but completely close the book on that part of her life, and tuck Clarke on the shelf as a fond memory along with it?

Weeks passed, and they made plans and broke them, because things kept coming up – mostly on Lexa's end, although once because Clarke got a cold and didn't want to infect Lexa – and suddenly it was the end of October and it had been a month since they'd seen each other, and Clarke was close to tears as she pushed open her door to spend another Friday night alone. 

Except not, because Josephine was already home... and she clearly had different plans. Plans she didn't plan on stopping even as Clarke stood there with the door and her mouth hanging open. 

"In or out," Josephine said, then smiled coyly down at the guy whose hips she was straddling. "Not you," she added, poking him in the chest. "You I want all in."

Clarke left. She didn't run, not quite, but she made it down the hall and down the stairs and out into the autumn chill in record time, her cheeks burning as she sucked in a breath. 

"Fuck," she said. "Fuck!" 

What the fuck was she supposed to do now?


	4. Chapter 4

Clarke's phone buzzed in her pocket and her heart leapt, thinking it might be a text from Lexa, inviting her to come visit this weekend after all. It was almost Clarke's birthday and she'd been hoping...

But it was just a reminder about an unofficial GSA event happening in 10 minutes, apparently. She'd put it in her calendar even though she had no intention of going, because Monroe (actually Zoe, but no one called her that) had gone out of her way to mention it to her, and Clarke had been too tired and lonely to risk burning any more bridges if she could avoid it. She'd kept going to meetings even after hearing how some of the girls felt about bisexuals (and therefore her, maybe) but she'd kept to the edges, not wanting to get too involved only to be rejected later. 

She bit her lip. It was a place to go, and better than hanging out by herself at the library... which might be closed at this time on a Friday. Certainly less pathetic. She wasn't really dressed for it, but she told herself it didn't matter. No one was going to pay attention to her anyway.

By the time she reached the address Zoe had given her, there were so many cars she ended parked on the next street over. She could hear the music before she even set foot on the porch and braced herself for the blast when she knocked... then realized no one was going to hear her and tried the knob. It twisted open and she went inside.

Clarke looked around, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw a few familiar faces, and flashed an awkward smile when she happened to make eye contact. She moved through the living room, which had become an impromptu dance club, and into the kitchen. She waved hi to Monroe, who waved back, but her attention was clearly focused on the girl next to her, who had her audience enthralled by some story that involved a lot of gesticulating. Clarke thought about going over and joining them, but decided to get a drink first instead.

"The good stuff's in the red cooler," someone said, close enough Clarke could feel the puff of her breath on her cheek. "Sorry," she added, when Clarke nearly jumped out of her skin. "Didn't mean to startle you." She leaned down and opened the red cooler, fishing out something a bottle of something that wasn't soda. She held it out to Clarke. "Maybe this will help?"

Clarke took it without thinking. "Thanks," she said, and then, "Thanks," again when the girl (Clarke wracked her brain for her name – Nala? Neela?) grabbed a bottle opener and popped off the top. 

"No problem." She held up her own drink and clinked the necks together, then took a swig, and Clarke did the same, trying not to grimace. It wasn't the first time she'd ever had alcohol, but a glass of wine at dinner with her parents was very different from hard... something at a college party. The second sip went down a little easier. "Happy birthday, by the way. A little early."

Clarke almost choked. "How did you—?"

"I'm friends with one of the RAs in your building," she said. "I helped her put up the bulletin board with all the October birthdays." She smiled. "I'm Niylah."

"Clarke," Clarke said, even though Niylah clearly already knew that. "And thanks." 

"We'll pretend you're turning 21," Niylah said, flashing her a wink. "Come on. Let me introduce you to some of my friends." 

Clarke hoped those friends wouldn't be the girls she'd run away from. She didn't think she could handle being told how undesirable she was right now. She followed Niylah through the back door and into the yard where it was quieter. Niylah found a group of mostly upperclassmen and introduced Clarke to them. Clarke knew she wouldn't remember their names, but at least they seemed friendly... even if maybe it was only for Niylah's benefit. 

She tried to follow the conversation, but most of it went over her head. The alcohol told her it didn't matter, and she listened to it, letting herself sink into the soft, fuzzy feeling that wrapped around her. When the first bottle was empty, a full one mysteriously appeared in her hand, and she smiled in gratitude. Maybe tonight wouldn't be a complete disaster after all...

Slowly the group disbursed, going to dance or play games or talk to other people. It took Clarke a few minutes to realize that it was only her and Niylah left in this corner of the yard... and then a few seconds longer to realize just how close Niylah was, and getting closer...

"Is this okay?" Niylah asked, and Clarke could feel her breath against her lips, taste the alcohol she exhaled on her tongue, and for a second Clarke – just for a second – Clarke considered saying yes. Because maybe Josephine was right. Nothing else had worked out the way Clarke expected it to, so why should she think she and Lexa could make things work? 

And then she came to her senses and pulled away, shaking her head. If they were going to break down or break up, she wasn't going to be the one doing the breaking. 

Niylah backed off immediately. "Okay," she said. "I misread." 

"I'm sorry," Clarke said, wondering what might have done that made Niylah think... But it didn't matter. All that mattered now was getting out of here, getting away, getting to Lexa and telling her... everything. She scrambled up and the world swam in front of her. She wobbled forward a few steps before Niylah caught her, holding her steady until the world stopped spinning... or resumed spinning at its usual speed.

"Should I call you a ride?" Niylah asked. 

"I have a car," Clarke said. 

Niylah gave her a Look. "You're in no shape to drive. Also, has anyone ever told you you're a total lightweight?" The words, and the smile that accompanied them, were teasing. "Let me get you some water."

Clarke propped herself against the porch railing while Niylah ducked inside, returning a few minutes later with a bottle of water. Clarke twisted off the cap and chugged it, like it would instantly dilute the contents of her belly and clear her head, even though she knew it didn't work that way. She set a timer on her phone for an hour. In an hour, she should be okay to drive. In an hour, she could go to Lexa.

It was going to be the longest 60 minutes of her life.

* * *

Lexa groaned. Her phone was ringing. Why was her phone ringing? It was the middle of the night. Was it even her phone? Maybe it was Luna's... no, Costia's. Except it was her ringtone, the one she'd set for Clarke so she would always know when she was calling. 

Why was Clarke calling at – she squinted at the glare of her phone screen – 1:27 am? 

She fumbled her phone, nearly dropping it as she hurried to swipe her finger across the screen? "Hello?"

"Lexa?"

"Clarke?"

"Can you come down? They won't let me in." 

"They—" Lexa rubbed at her eyes even though there was nothing to see except the smudge of Costia's face in the dim glow Lexa's phone lent to the room, peering at her groggily. "You're _here_?"

"Yes. Please. Can you please just—"

"I'll be right there," Lexa said. She untangled herself from her blankets and tried to remember what she'd gone to sleep in, then decided she didn't care. She was wearing _something_ and that was all that mattered. 

"What's going on?" Costia asked. 

"I have no idea," Lexa said, and grabbed her wallet with her student ID so she would be able to sign Clarke in. She pushed the button for the elevator, but after a few seconds got impatient and took the stairs instead, gaining momentum with each flight. She finally skidded to a halt in the lobby, looking from the startled guard at the desk to Clarke and back. "She's with me," she said, handing over her ID so he could sign Clarke in as a guest. 

"Have a good night," the guard said as Lexa jabbed the elevator button... which they had had to wait to return from its trip up to her floor. When the door opened they stepped inside, and Lexa tried not to think too much about what she might be stepping in when her toes hit a damp spot. 

She turned to look at Clarke and felt her heart squeeze and her stomach tie itself in knots. She looked like she'd been crying, her eyes red-rimmed and her nose raw, and dark circles and frown lines marred her paler than usual skin. "What's wrong?" she asked, but Clarke only shook her head, swallowing and blinking hard. 

The door opened again and they stepped out. Lexa reached for Clarke's hand, but Clarke turned away, just enough to avoid contact, and a chill went through Lexa like someone had dropped an ice cube down her spine. 

Costia was standing in the door of their room. "I already texted Gaia," she said. "I'm going to crash there for the night." 

"You don't have to—" Lexa started to say, but when Costia's eyes slid to Clarke and one eyebrow curved up, she stopped. "Thank you."

"Of course," Costia said. "I look forward to meeting you tomorrow," she added, flashing Clarke a smile she didn't see. Clarke sniffed and nodded. 

When Costia was gone, Lexa went to her bed and sat down, but Clarke didn't follow, even when Lexa held out her hands. Lexa sucked in a breath and blew it out slowly, trying to still the frantic beating of her heart. "Clarke," she said softly, "what's wrong?"

Clarke shook her head, and once she started it was like she couldn't stop. Lexa stood up again and wrapped her arms around her, pulling her close, pressing Clarke's head against her shoulder to still it. For a second Clarke struggled, but finally she gave in, collapsing against her with a wail. "Everything!"

The story came out slowly, starting with Clarke's disastrous first encounter with her roommate and the Mean Girl lesbians and ending with the party that night when she'd almost kissed someone else, or let someone else kiss her, which was different... but was it? 

"I knew it was going to be hard," Clarke sobbed, "but I didn't think it would be _this_ hard!"

"That's what she said," Lexa quipped without thinking, and then almost choked on the giggle that rose up, because if there had ever been a less appropriate moment for a joke...

Except it stopped Clarke's tears in their tracks as she stared at Lexa, blinking. "Did you just...?"

"Um. Sorry?" 

"Don't be," Clarke said. She leaned in, her nose brushing Lexa's... and then stopped. "Is this okay?"

"Why wouldn't it be okay?" 

"Because I—I almost—"

"But you didn't," Lexa said, maybe a little more forcefully than she meant to. 

"No, but—"

"Why didn't you?" Lexa asked.

Clarke's eyes filled with tears again. "Because she wasn't you. And even if the odds are stacked against us... I want you. Only you. Forever."

"You swear it?" Lexa asked. 

"Yes!" Clarke said. "Did you ever doubt?"

"No," Lexa said. _But you did._ She pushed the thought aside. It didn't matter. She wasn't going to torture either of them over a second's alcohol-fueled almost-indiscretion. What mattered was that Clarke had chosen her. Even though she was lonely and miserable and had been for weeks, and Niylah was right there, interested and available, Clarke had chosen her. 

"Hold on," she said, getting up to retrieve two small boxes from her dresser drawer. She held one out to Clarke. "I was going to surprise you on your birthday," she said. "Skip class and drive up and—" She shrugged. It didn't matter now. Clarke was here. "Happy birthday, love." 

Clarke's hands shook as she lifted the lid (Lexa hadn't had a chance to wrap it yet) and lifted out a ring with two hands clasping a crowned heart. She looked at it, then at Lexa. "What's this?"

"It's called a Claddagh," Lexa said. "It's for friendship, love, and loyalty. There are all kinds of traditions about what it means depending on how you wear it, like if you wear it on your right hand it means one thing and if you wear it on your left it means another, and whether the point of the heart faces your heart or not means something else, and—" She stopped herself, realizing she was babbling. 

"How should I wear it then?" Clarke asked. 

Lexa bit her lip and held out her hand. Clarke placed the ring in her palm, and Lexa picked it up and took Clarke's left hand, sliding the ring onto her finger, the point of the heart facing her fingertips. Clarke looked at her, then at her. "What does that mean?" she asked.

Lexa's voice was barely a whisper, "Do you really need to ask?"

"What's that?" Clarke asked, her voice shaking along with her hands now, nodding toward the second box. Lexa slid it toward her, and Clarke opened it, revealing a matching ring. She picked it up, her teeth digging into her lower lip as she reached for Lexa's hand. 

Lexa's breath caught as the cool metal slid up her finger, settling snugly below her knuckle like it was meant to be there. She clenched her fingers around Clarke's and pulled her in, sealing the unspoken promise with a kiss, and then another, and then another...

* * *

In the morning Clarke woke before Lexa, her bladder screaming with all the water she'd chugged to sober up the night before (even though it felt like she ought to have cried it all out). She retrieved her phone from Lexa's desk and quickly searched for Claddagh, wanting to make sure her assumption when Lexa asked if she really needed to ask was right and not wishful thinking. But Wikipedia confirmed that worn on the left hand with the heart pointing to the fingertips meant the wearer was engaged, and everyone knew you could believe everything you read on the internet. 

Clarke breathed a sigh of relief, and felt Lexa stir against her back, nuzzling her shoulder and side of her neck and pressing a kiss there. "Good morning," Clarke said, setting her phone down and lacing her fingers through Lexa's, their rings lining up side-by-side.

"G'morning," Lexa echoed, her lips brushing Clarke's skin and sending goosebumps racing across her skin. "How are you feeling?"

"I need to pee," Clarke admitted. "Like, really a lot."

"So pee!" Lexa laughed, loosening her grip so Clarke could get up. 

Clarke looked around, but she didn't see anything she could wrap around herself so she just darted into the shared bathroom and quickly locked the door to the other room in case there were any early-risers. 

She practically groaned with relief as her bladder emptied, and when she looked in the mirror as she washed her hands she looked like hell, but she couldn't help smiling because she felt more like herself than she had in weeks. Months, even. She unlocked the adjoining door and closed the one that led into Lexa's room, quickly crawling back into bed with her and burrowing her face into her neck. 

She felt Lexa's fingers working into her hair, combing through strands that could use a good wash, but Lexa didn't seem to mind. After a few moments of quiet contentment, at least on Clarke's side, Lexa sighed, and she didn't sound nearly so copacetic. Clarke looked up, and Lexa brushed the tip of her nose against Clarke's, looking at her with eyes soft and a little sad. "I wish you'd told me sooner." Like she wasn't angry, just disappointed. 

"I know," Clarke said. "I just... I didn't want to bring you down. And I kept hoping it would get better. I didn't want you to have to worry about me." 

"It's my job to worry about you," Lexa said, then wrinkled her nose. "Not my job, but—you know what I mean. That's part of what I signed up for. Part of being your girlfriend. Part of being your _friend_ , even. If you'd only stuck by me when things were easy... we wouldn't be here. Because things were rarely easy." 

Clarke bit her lip. She hadn't thought about it that way. Maybe she was just used to being the one who had her shit together, the one who things just fell in place for, the one whose worst problems could usually be solved with cuddles and cocoa. Maybe she was used to being the source of comfort and not the one in need of comforting. Now the tables had turned, the roles reversed, the script flipped, and she'd just crumbled under the pressure.

Not that her worries weren't real, her concerns not genuine, the loneliness and isolation all in her head, or a problem of her own creation or—

"Talk to me," Lexa said. "Let's get all of the cards out on the table and figure out where to go from there."

Clarke hesitated, then nodded. She was so mired in it she couldn't see the forest for the trees. Maybe some outside perspective was what she needed. But first... "Could we maybe get some breakfast before we start trying to conquer the world?"

Lexa's lips quirked into a crooked smile. "I think that can be arranged."

* * *

By the time Clarke left on Sunday, having stayed later than she probably should have considering she still had homework to get done before classes the next day, Lexa felt a little better about everything, and she hoped Clarke did too. She'd made Clarke swear not to hold back on telling her if she was struggling, that if she'd learned anything in the years of therapy she'd been forced to go through, it was that bottling things up pretty much never helped anything. You might not be able to say whatever you wanted to whoever you wanted, but swallowing your anger and sadness and pain would eventually start to poison you and destroy you from the inside out. 

"Thank you," Lexa said when Costia came in, dropping her backpack onto her bed. "I'm sorry—"

"For what?" Costia asked. "Shit happens. From what I heard, a whole lotta shit has been happening for her. I can't blame her for finally snapping and making a run for it in the middle of the night... especially when she's got you to run to." She looked at Lexa out of the corner of her eye as she unpacked her bag. 

"It's still not fair that you got forced out of the room all weekend," Lexa said.

"No one forced me to do anything," Costia said. "You really think you could make me do anything I didn't want to do?" Her smirk turned into a full-fledged grin. 

"No," Lexa admitted, smiling back. It was almost impossible not to; Costia's near-constant optimism and enthusiasm were contagious. 

"I just hope she'll be okay," Costia said. "She seems really nice." 

"She is," Lexa said. "And she will be." She was Clarke Griffin. Nothing could keep her down for long. 

"I'm glad I finally got to meet her," Costia said. "I was starting to think you'd made her up." 

Lexa rolled her eyes. "I talk to her all the time."

"Do you?" Costia asked. "Or do you just talk to yourself?" 

Lexa threw a pillow at her, and Costia laughed and threw it right back. If they had been in some kind of teen movie it probably would have ended with a full-blown pillow fight and feathers flying everywhere, but neither of them had down pillows and Lexa had reading to do. She tucked the pillow against the head of her bed and leaned against it, picking up her history book and hoping she could manage to stay awake long enough to finish the chapter.

Later, when they were both in bed and the lights were out, she could hear Costia shifting around in the dark. She knew by now that meant there was something on her mind, something she wanted to say but didn't know how to say it. Sometimes Lexa asked, but sometimes she waited it out... and sometimes she fell asleep and by morning whatever it was no longer seemed so pressing.

She rolled onto her side, hugging Godric the Lion to her chest, and closed her eyes, trying to remember the warmth of Clarke next to her, their limbs tangled together because what choice did they have with two bodies in so narrow a bed? 

"I never stood a chance, did I?" Costia asked, just as Lexa started to drift to sleep.

Lexa jerked awake again. "What?"

Costia snorted. "You really haven't noticed I've been flirting with you since day one?"

"No," Lexa said. "I haven't." She frowned. "You know I have a girlfriend. You've known all along."

"I know," Costia said. "And I would never do anything to get in the way of that. But a girl can dream."

"What?!"

"Oh come on, Lex!" Costia said. "Have you met you? You're a catch!"

Lexa didn't say anything. She didn't know what to say. She wished she'd fallen asleep quicker and avoided this conversation altogether. 

The longer the silence stretched, the more she could hear Costia squirm, until finally she blurted, "I'm sorry! Please don't—I never should have said anything. I don't want to make things weird."

"They're not," Lexa said. They weren't. She wouldn't let them be. Whatever feelings Costia might have had were her problem, not Lexa's. 

"Just promise me one thing, will you?" Costia asked. 

"What?" Lexa asked warily.

"Promise you'll invite me to the wedding." She could hear the smile in Costia's voice, hear how she was trying to smooth over her gaffe and make things right between them again.

In the past Lexa might not have let it go. She might not have made things easy. But the ring on her finger grounded and anchored her almost as well as Clarke had for all these years, and she was done burning bridges. "Yeah okay," she said. "But your bridesmaid's dress is gonna be _ugly_."


	5. Chapter 5

"Okay, but if you hate it so much, why don't you just transfer?"

Clarke froze with her chopsticks halfway to her mouth, noodles dangling from them and dripping all over the table. She set them back in the container gingerly and grabbed a napkin to wipe up the mess. Costia's question was a valid one, and one she'd asked herself over and over again, but had never let herself truly consider, because she'd made a commitment, and when you make a commitment you stick with it, and—

"It's not that simple," Clarke said finally. She could feel Lexa's eyes on her and couldn't make herself look up to meet them. She was afraid of what she might find there if she did. 

"People do it all the time," Costia said. "It can't be _that_ hard. Sure, going through the application process all over again is kind of a pain in the ass, but so is your roommate so—"

"You could always see about getting a new roommate," Taylor suggested. "I know people who've done that." 

"I've thought about it," Clarke said, "but what if I end up with someone worse?"

"Worse than Josephine Lightfoot?" Costia scoffed. 

"Lightbourne," Clarke corrected automatically, not sure why she bothered. 

"Whatever," Costia said. "It doesn't seem likely. I mean, I know I hit the roommate jackpot," she grinned at Lexa, "but there has to be someone better than the Spawn of Satan Or Possible Republicans you're stuck with who's looking for a new roommate."

"What about one of your friends?" Taylor asked. 

"I don't have any," Clarke said flatly. She sometimes ate with Monroe (and her girlfriend Harper now that they were joined at the hip) if they happened to be in the dining hall at the same time, and she'd run into Niylah once or twice and things hadn't been too painfully awkward, but she wouldn't consider either of them _friends_. Maybe that was her own fault. Maybe she was keeping them at arm's length. Maybe if she just tried harder..."

But she was tired. She was tired of trying harder, trying her hardest, and getting what felt like nothing in return. Not just socially, but in her classes, which she kept hoping would get better but never did. She was so tired of hearing the same handful of cishet white dudes acting like they knew everything about everything, and the professors letting them get away with it. She was tired of trying to find ways to stretch herself and connect what she was learning to what she wanted to be learning, and being rebuffed and told to just 'stick to what's in the syllabus'. 

She was just fucking _tired_.

The almost five-hour round-trip commutes to see Lexa nearly every weekend didn't help any... except that they helped a lot, at least with keeping Clarke from collapsing into debilitating depression and giving up entirely. Lexa had offered to switch off weekends so Clarke wasn't always the one doing the driving, but Clarke didn't want to deal with Josephine giving her a hard time every time she dared ask for the room to themselves, even for a few hours, so she'd turned her down. 

Anyway, she had friends here. Lexa had introduced her to some of her friends, and Costia had introduced her to a few others, and she found herself smiling and laughing so much sometimes her cheeks and stomach ached by the end of the weekend. 

"It doesn't have to be here," Costia said. "Although that would be awesome, as I'm sure Lexa would agree." She waggled her eyebrows. "I wouldn't even hate you for stealing my roommate... much." She grinned. 

Clarke finally looked at Lexa, who slid her hand onto Clarke's knee beneath the table, squeezing it gently. _I want you to be happy,_ her eyes said. _Whatever that means and wherever it takes you, I want you to be happy._

"It would be awesome," Clarke said softly. "Unfortunately, there's no program here for what I want to do." 

"What do you want to do?" Taylor asked. "This place has like... a million majors."

"And if none of them fit, you can design your own," Costia said. "That's what Gaia is doing."

"Ooh, _Gaia_ ," Lexa said, her tone turning teasing. "Well if _Gaia_ did it—"

"Shut up, you," Costia said, but Clarke could see the color rising in her cheeks. "Seriously, though, it's a thing. You want to do art therapy, right?" Clarke nodded. "Okay. So we've got an art department, and we've got a psychology department... get an advisor to help you with some independent studies to combine the two and you're good to go!"

Clarke shook her head. "It's not that easy," she said again. 

"Probably not," Costia admitted, "but it's not impossible. Hold on." She pulled out her phone and started tapping away. A second later her phone chimed, and a smile spread across her face. She sent another message, then tucked her phone away again. "Gaia's coming to meet us. She can tell you what the process is like. Then maybe next time you visit you can come up early, talk to some professors—"

"I can talk to my psych professor," Lexa chimed in. "Even if she's not the right person I'm sure she would be happy to talk with you and get you pointed in the right direction." 

"Perfect," Costia said. "And I know tons of people in the art department. I'm sure they can help us find someone for you to talk to there. We've got you, girl."

Clarke swallowed hard, trying to clear the lump in her throat. It had been so long since she'd felt like this, like she had anyone other than Lexa who had her back, people willing to go out on a limb for her, to help her even though she had nothing to offer them in return... "Thank you," she choked. "That's really... that's amazing. Thank you."

"What are friends for?" Costia asked. "Now eat! Your noodles are getting cold!"

* * *

"Tell me what you're thinking?" Clarke asked, tracing a gentle finger down the bridge of Lexa's nose, then along the line of her jaw, like she was mapping her features to sketch them later. 

Lexa knew what she was really asking: 'Are you really okay with this?' Because the more they'd talked, the realer the possibility of Clarke being able to find a way to do what she wanted to do here, learn what she wanted to learn even though there wasn't an official program for it, had become. 

So that was the question, wasn't it? _Was_ she okay with it? She'd been terrified of what four years apart might do to them before she left, but since then she'd settled into a new life, a new routine, a new group of friends. She'd been okay, even without Clarke to lean on. Would that change if Clarke was here? Would they become Clarke-and-Lexa and forget how to be themselves separately? 

It was a concern... but not a very big one. Even in high school they'd had their own groups of friends, although there had been plenty of overlap. They'd had their own interests, worked different jobs, made different memories and then came back together to share them. They could do that here, too. They already did, to some extent. Clarke had friends Lexa didn't even know except tangentially. Last weekend Lexa had had a meeting for a group project rescheduled to Saturday morning because that was allegedly the only time one of the guys could meet, and Clarke had told her it was no problem, she would just go out to brunch with Costia and a few others, and Lexa had been the one left sulking and feeling left out (but Clarke had made it up to her later).

Clarke was happy here. They were both happy here. 

"I'm thinking," Lexa said, catching Clarke's finger and kissing it, "that I could really get used to this."

* * *

Lexa talked to her psych professor, and Costia talked to some of her art friends, and the next weekend Clarke stayed over until Monday, playing hooky from her classes to meet with a few members of the faculty who might be interested in helping her design her major. By the time they met up at the end of the day to say goodbye, Clarke was glowing brighter than the setting sun. "This could work," she said. "This could really work!" 

"Good," Lexa said, and meant it. She wrapped her arms around her girlfriend and held her close, a warm feeling in her chest because for once she'd been able to do something to help Clarke through a rough time instead of the other way around. "I'm going to miss you," she murmured. 

"Not for long," Clarke said. In a couple of days would be Thanksgiving break, and they would get five days at home together... although family obligations might keep them from each other some of the time. "And hopefully next year not at all."

Lexa kissed her and kept kissing her until the sun had completely disappeared beneath the horizon, and Clarke started grumbling about driving back in the dark.

"So stay," Lexa said. "Go in the morning."

"I have class in the morning," Clarke said. "I have to at least pretend to care. If my grades slip it hurts my chances of my transfer application being accepted." 

Lexa wrinkled her nose. She didn't want to consider the possibility of Clarke not getting in, now that the seed had been planted. They could make all the plans they wanted, but if the admissions office wasn't interested, if they'd already filled their quota of transfers, if... She shook her head, but gave Clarke one last squeeze. "I'll see you Wednesday," she said. 

"Not if I see you first," Clarke said, and climbed into her car for the long drive home.

But she didn't end up seeing Clarke on Wednesday, because just as she was about to get in her car to go to pick Clarke up, she got a text from Luna, asking if she would be able to pick her up at the airport. Luna hadn't thought Luna would be able to make it home for Thanksgiving, because the break was short and the drive was long, but at the last minute one of her friends had donated some of her (or her parents') frequent flyer miles so Luna could get a flight.

**Lexa:** Of course! What time?

Luna texted back her flight's arrival time, and Lexa grimaced. She dialed Clarke, pressing her phone to her ear as she shoved her bags (which were mostly filled with dirty laundry, because why do it here when she could do it at home?) into the back seat and got behind the wheel.

"Hello?"

"Hey," Lexa said. "I hate to do this to you last minute, but do you mind driving yourself home? Luna's coming home after all but needs a ride from the airport and she'll be stuck waiting if—"

"Go," Clarke said. "I'm glad she's coming home. It'll be good to see her."

"Thanks for understanding," Lexa said. "I'll see you later, though. I promise."

"I'll hold you to that," Clarke said. They hung up, and Lexa twisted the key in the ignition and pulled out.

She made it to the airport with minutes to spare, but Luna was already waiting. She tucked her carryon into the back and climbed in the passenger's seat, leaning over to give Lexa an awkward hug. "Flight got in early," she said. "Must have taken a shortcut." 

Lexa snorted. "It's the air. How can there be shortcuts?"

Luna shrugged. "I guess they can't all just fly in straight lines? Anyway, thanks for coming to get me."

Lexa rolled her eyes, as if to say, 'Obviously, I wouldn't leave you stranded,' and Luna rolled her right back, and they both laughed.

"So tell me everything," Luna said. "How's school? How's the roommate situation? How's Clarke?" Because although they texted each other every few days, they hadn't actually _talked_ much since school started. It was usually just random things, memes and funny pictures and videos to make each other smile, and quick check-ins. They were too busy for much else.

"School is good," Lexa said, telling her a little about some of her classes, and then about Costia and her friends. "Clarke..." She bit her lip, not sure how much of it was hers to tell. "Clarke's doing better," she finally said. "It wasn't an easy transition for her." 

"She's not used to having to deal with change," Luna said. 

She had a point, but Lexa knew it was more than that. "She's planning on transferring," she said before she could stop herself. 

"To be with you?" Luna asked. 

"To be in a better place," Lexa said. "She's miserable where she is now, and she's not getting what she wants out of her classes and even looking ahead at what comes after she finishes her gen eds, she doesn't feel like it's going to get her where she wants to go. She's already talked to professors at my school, and she has a whole plan and—"

Luna held up her hands in surrender. "You don't have to convince _me_ ," she said. "Is that what you want?"

"I want her to be happy," Lexa said. "I think she will be at my school."

"What about you, though?" Luna asked. "Will you be happy?"

"Yes," Lexa said. 

"Okay," Luna said. "But something tells me her parents might be a tougher sell."

* * *

"Would you look who it is?" Clarke found herself engulfed in the wiry embrace of her grandmother as soon as she walked in the door, before she'd even had a chance to set down her bags. "The prodigal daughter has returned!" 

"Hi Nana," Clarke sighed, dropping what she was carrying to hug her back. "It's nice to see you too."

"You never _call_ , you never _write_..." Her tone was mostly teasing, but there was enough of an edge of accusation to send a pang of guilt through Clarke. 

"No one writes anymore, Nana," Clarke pointed out, trying to extricate herself from the hug.

"Well you never text then," Nana said, loosening her grip but not letting go completely. "If you don't want to call, you could at least text. I know how to do that, you know. I'm not as out of the loop as you might think. I even know all about emojis, which... I can't say the same for some of my friends. Phyllis caused quite a kerfuffle when she was telling us about her garden and the giant eggplants she grew..." She raised an eyebrow, and Clarke almost choked on a laugh, letting herself be pulled back into another hug.

"I'll do better," Clarke said. "I promise."

"Are you planning on sharing, Mom?" her father asked, coming up. "Or are you going to keep my daughter all to yourself?"

Nana waved him away, but took a step back, holding Clarke at arm's length. Her eyes narrowed. "Have you lost weight? You look like you've lost weight. Is the food that terrible? And how much homework do they have you doing? You look like you haven't slept since you left!"

"I'm fine, Nana," Clarke said, pulling away to hug her father. 

"You sure, kiddo?" he asked. "You are looking a little worse for the wear. End of the semester getting to you?"

Clarke didn't answer. She wasn't sure she could without everything coming out, and she wasn't ready for that. "Where's Mom?"

"Work," he said. "There was an emergency that's keeping her late, but she should be home in time for dinner." 

Clarke nodded. It was par for the course. It would be a miracle if her mother made it all the way through Thanksgiving without getting called in. Holidays were notoriously busy as alcohol and forced interaction with estranged relatives mixed in all kinds of bad ways. "I'm going to get my laundry started," she said. 

She spent the rest of the day dodging her father and Nana as much as possible, wishing Lexa and Luna would come over to take some of the attention away from her, but they were busy dealing with their own homecoming, and she hadn't gotten more than a single text from Lexa of a waving hand, and a glimpse of her out the window imitating the message before disappearing inside. 

As promised, her mom was back in time for dinner, which she had picked up on her way home from one of Clarke's favorite places. As they sat around the table Clarke could feel the tension rising, both inside and around her, so that when Nana finally broke the silence to ask, 'So Clarke, how _is_ school?' she finally told the truth: "Honestly? Terrible."

Everyone stopped, all eyes on her, but Clarke refused to be cowed, to back away from her statement or try to soften it. "I hate my roommate, I hate my classes, I have no friends there, and I'm planning to transfer."

"Excuse me?" her mother said. 

"You told us—" her father started, but Clarke cut him off.

"I lied. Every time I said things were fine, I lied. Every time I said I was okay, I lied. Every time I said I was settling in, getting used to things, adjusting, keeping busy... I lied. I knew it was what you wanted to hear, and I wanted it to be true, so I lied. But I have a plan now, and it'll be better next year." Maybe even next semester, but she was trying not to get her hope's up.

"What's your plan?" her mom asked. 

"To transfer," Clarke repeated. "To Polis U."

Her mother's frown deepened. "That's where Lexa goes to school," she said. 

"I know," Clarke said, "but it's not about her." _Not entirely, anyway._

"I know being away from her must be difficult," Abby said, in that conciliatory but borderline-condescending tone that never failed to put Clarke on edge, "but you can't base your entire life around—"

"I'm _not_!" Clarke snapped. "She's part of it, but she's not all of it. I have _friends_ at her school. Friends that aren't even her friends, just from spending time there. I've already talked to professors who are excited about helping me put together a major to do what the program I'm in is failing to. I'm happy when I'm there. I'm excited about what I might be able to do, the opportunities I could have. Having Lexa there... that's a bonus." She sucked in a breath and launched into the best argument she'd come up with on the drive home. "Anyway, look at this way: right now I spend so much time missing her, and thinking about her, and in the car driving to visit her, and on the phone with her, and that's all time that I could be using for other things. Studying, extracurriculars, socializing, sleeping. If we're in the same place, I won't invest so much time and energy into obsessing over when I'll get to see her again. I'll know. I'll know that I'll see her at dinner, or the end of the day, or whenever. Instead of spending hours texting her, we can sit quietly studying together, not saying a word because we don't need to to reassure ourselves the other is there."

"She has a point," her father said softly. 

"Thank you," Clarke said. 

"I just don't want you to lose yourself," her mother said. "I don't want you to give up on your dreams, your goals, to fit yourself into some mold—"

"Have I ever?" Clarke demanded. "When have I ever given up any part of me for her? When has she ever given up any part of her for me? We're still ourselves. Still dreaming our own dreams, reaching for our own stars. But when we're together, we're our best selves, and we always have been."

"You're not going to win this one," Nana said. "She's going to do exactly what she wants to do, and she's going to come out on top. You want to know why?"

Abby sighed. "Why?"

"Because she's exactly who you raised her to be."

* * *

Lexa phone buzzed, startling her out of a doze over her econ homework. She picked it up and a message from Clarke lit up the screen.

**Clarke:** Come down and let me in! Please?

Lexa shoved her feet into her shoes, her heart beating against her ribs as she rushed down the hall and down the stairs, afraid that Clarke was having another crisis. But when she got down to the lobby, Clarke threw herself into Lexa's arms, kissing her cheeks and lips over and over. 

Lexa finally managed to set her back on her feet, acutely aware of the guard behind the desk who was watching them with a little too much interest. She quickly signed Clarke in and pulled her into the elevator. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" she asked. 

"Oh, nothing," Clarke said, tapping on her phone screen with exaggerated casualness. "Nothing at all." She held it up for Clarke to see, and Lexa's heart leapt. 

_Dear Clarke Griffin:_

_We are pleased to inform you that your application_

Lexa didn't need to read any more. "You did it!"

" _We_ did it," Clarke said. "I never could have done it without you." 

"You could have," Lexa said. "But you didn't have to."

"And I never will." Clarke pulled her into another kiss, soft and sweet and promising so much more to come.


End file.
